Elvin Star of the Orcs
by adanudowaya
Summary: This story is about an Elvin girl discovered by Orcs after her family has been killed. It takes place 200 years after the defeat of Sauron in the third age, and these Orcs are far smarter than any before.... This is my first attempt, please review. Rated
1. Default Chapter

"Oh, Menel, must you go? Is there no way you could stay? Just until the child is born?"  
"No, Elin, I wish I could stay. I am needed at Darthang. You know that it is important for us to reoccupy the fortresses of Mordor now that Sauron has been defeated. We must be sure that he can never return." The tall elf looked lovingly at his wife. "I must go. But when the baby is born, let me know. If it is a boy, he should be called Meneldur, for he is a gift from heaven. If it is a girl, she should be called Gil, for she is a spark and glitter of you, my star."  
Elin could not hold back her tears as Menel walked away. He would be gone for a thousand years, hidden away in the heart of Mordor. Elin had every confidence in her husbands skill with the sword and the bow, but worry still plagued her. She would bear a child in less than a year, and Menel would not see his offspring until the child was almost a thousand years old.  
She herself felt that she would never see him again.  
  
Gil ran ahead of the tiny band of elves, her long hair blowing in the wind. She had never before been outside of Lothlorien, and it was a great adventure for her.  
"Gil! Come back here!" Gil turned back to the sound of her mother's voice, her feet much slower to return than they had been to leave. Her young heart danced within her chest. They had been traveling for several weeks, but soon, they would be at Darthang. Soon, Gil would see her father for the first time of her young life.  
Gil was only fifteen years old. She knew she was lucky to be seeing her father, for there were travelers in the band who were more than a hundred years old, going to meet some relation they had never seen. Gil's father had been one of the later groups sent out to Mordor, she knew, and she harbored no fear about what she would find there. Sauron had been gone for two hundred years now, and Mordor was fast becoming fit for habitation again.  
Elin was not so carefree as her child. In the years since Menel's departure, she had not been able to shake the feeling of doom. The last Orcs had been driven north many years ago, but she shook with fear every time she heard the mournful cry of a warg. If wargs were still around, could not some remote band of Orcs stay hidden as well? Were there still those dark creatures in Mordor? Elin hoped that it was not so, but still, she preferred to keep Gil close to her.  
  
Night seemed to fall faster in Mordor. Twilight was almost non- existent, and the darkness was black and heavy, as if it was a tarp thrown over them and not just the departure of day.  
Elin tried to calm her fears by telling herself that Sauron was long gone, but she could not believe it in this dark, forsaken place. The other Elves seemed not to notice her melancholy mood. They danced before the fire, singing and telling stories as if they were home.  
Perhaps this would be home. Occupation of the dark lands were encouraged. Maybe she and Gil would live here to be closer to Menel. She shivered at the thought. Could she really give up her beautiful home in the forest of Lorien for this barren place? Even for Menel? What about Gil? Her daughter should be raised in a place of beauty, not this miserable place.  
Elin looked over at her daughter. Gil was dancing merrily, not seeming to care that her surroundings were dismal. Her laughter rang out with that of the other elvin babes and children. Her eyes held the spark of her name, and her hair was the golden mane of her father. Surly, her daughter rivaled Tinuviel for beauty. Was it her fate to also rival the elvin-maid of old's adventure and doom?  
  
Baroc could see the group through the night. His eyes squinted against the light of the fire, but he shielded his face and turned to look again. These were the creatures who had run them from their homes. These were the creatures who had killed many of them, and driven the remnant away. All but his small band, of course. Hate boiled up within him, threatening to spill over at any moment, but he restrained himself. His people were not fools as the Uruk-hai had been. They had deserved to die for their stupidity. And so did these Elvin creatures.  
Baroc and his group of warriors waited long into the night. They were not fools to rush in and be killed. They were the most cunning of all the Orcs, or so they thought. After all, they had not been run off like all the rest. They had remained hidden these many years, becoming more cunning and sure of themselves. They could hide before the very faces of the sharpest eyed elf, and not be seen. They had learned to control the hate breed into them by Sauron.  
Baroc spat to cleanse his mouth of the name of Sauron. They were no longer the stooges of Sauron and his red eye. They bore more hate to him than any other. Now they could relive their need to kill and mutilate, their desire to hate and let anger rule, in a manner that did not make them slaves to it. Tonight, they would let hate and anger rule. Tomorrow, they would return to their home deep in the caves, and force hate to wait for the next attack. They would not destroy themselves as the Uruk-hai and the Northern Orcs had.  
Baroc could wait no longer. The fire had died down to coals, and only one sleepy guard remained awake. He signaled to his people, and the Orcs jumped from their hiding places. A sickening, growling wail escaped from the throats of the Orcs they slashed at the unsuspecting elves.  
Mayhem ruled. And Baroc loved every minute of it. 


	2. Chapter 2

Gil woke with a start at the sound of the rising wail. "Mother?" she questioned into the dark. Then she remembered. Her mother was not there. Gil had woken in the night and slipped off to the nearby creek for a drink. The low murmurings of the water had lulled her back to sleep on it's mossy banks.  
The sounds of battle grew louder. She could hear harsh, angry voices, mingled with the surprised cries of the Elves. Her heart beat faster in fear. What could it be? Was it those horrible monsters, Orcs, that she had heard so much about? But they had been run off long ago. Could it be Trolls? Surly Trolls would not attack them, they had to large a group. Wargs? The sharp eyes and ears of the Elves would have detected them long ago.  
Gil hunched behind a tree, trying to block the noise from her ears. It was to no avail, however. She could not close her sharp ears to the gut wrenching sounds of rending flesh and crunching bones.  
She could feel each blow as if it landed on her own tiny frame. Tears overflowed as she heard voices-- familiar voices, crying out to dead and dying loved ones. Sobs racked her body, but she didn't notice them. The only sounds she could hear were the pathetic wails of the still living victims, and the harsh victory song of some unknown enemy, loud and drunk with blood lust.  
Gil could not say if she fell asleep moments later or hours later. The same images that plagued her in wakefulness haunted her nightmares all night long.  
  
Ozga looked at the dead child in her arms in disgust. They had few enough people without losing another babe to sickness. The men would return tired and angry after their night of fun, and Baroc would not be pleased to find his son dead. No father's love would influence his feelings, simple logic would. Until the Orcs had regained their former numbers, every life was costly.  
Ozga feared the beating she would receive upon her husband's return. She swore and cast the still form into the bushes. Maybe, if she was lucky, Baroc would not notice the child's absence for a few days.  
  
Gil awoke to silence. For a moment, she forgot the events of the night before and sighed happily. Her small hand reached out to where her Mother should be-- and found instead the rough bark of a tree. Her memory rushed back to her in a flood.  
Gil fought to hold back her tears as she made her way to the clearing where her people had danced and sung only a few hours before. The sight that greeted her eyes made her turn and wretch, her whole body shook with revulsion. She forced herself to turn back, and dashed angrily at the tears flowing freely down her face. She surveyed the carnage before her, forcing herself to hold her eyes on each still body. She willed each one to breath, to open their eyes, to give any sign of life. Her eyes moved from one Elf to the next, halting on each for a few seconds, then moving on.  
Gil's eyes glazed over, and horror coursed through her. She wanted to scream, but no sound would come. Her eyes lingered on one last, still shape for a long minute, then she turned and ran. As she ran, she could not see the trees and rocks in her path, the obstacles that tripped her and slashed at her. She could not feel the pain of her many falls, or the blood oozing from her arms and legs. All she could feel was numbness. And all she could see was her Mother's severed head. 


	3. Chapter 3

Gil had no sense of direction, no sense of anything. She ran blindly, her tears dimming vision already impaired by the scenes of carnage in her mind's eye. Finally, she could run no farther. Her legs gave out, and she fell for the last time. She couldn't will her self to get up. She didn't want to. She just wanted to die.  
The little Elf girl had never seen death before that day. Always it had been something remote, something she thought she would never face. She knew that death often claimed the lives of men, hobbits, animals, all creatures-- but not Elves. Elves were supposed to be immortal. How was it that so many Elves had just died before her very eyes? Well, if they could die, then she could, as well. Gil had never wanted anything more than death at that moment. What claimed her was not death, however. What eventually claimed her was a deep, healing sleep.  
  
Ozga thumped her way to the branch of the creek closest to the caves, her head lowered against the hated sun. She needed water to prepare the special meal and drink they would share after the men's return. As she dipped her bucket into the murky water, something caught her eye. The sun was gleaming off of something-- hair? Golden hair? Curiosity drew her away from her task and to the spot.  
The Orc woman's gaze drifted from the hair blowing in the wind to the face below it. Ozga's eyes narrowed as they took in the gentle slope of the elvin-child's ears. Anger boiled within her. It was one of them-- One of the ones who had driven away her kind. Her hate brimmed just below the surface. She reached out and grabbed a large stone. One well aimed blow, and this Elf would die.  
A rough voice, backed by many beatings, echoed through her head and stayed her hand. "Always think first!" Baroc's fist had intoned every syllable. "Sauron's hate made us slaves. Ours will make us masters!"  
Ozga's mind flashed to another picture of a child lying discarded in the bushes. Baroc's son. Maybe, if Ozga saved this child to work in the place of the dead one, Baroc would not beat her so bad.  
A cruel smile twisted Ozga's lips. Let Baroc beat this child all he wanted. He would enjoy being the master, with an Elf as his slave. 


	4. Chapter 4

Gil awoke to pain. A dull, aching pain that coursed through her entire body. She forced one eye open, then the other. She caught a glimpse of something to one side, and tried to turn her head. Pain flooded her, and she choked back a scream. The thing she had noticed came over to her. This time, Gil did scream. An Orc. She knew this must be an Orc.  
Rough hands grabbed her and forced her head back. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her, but she had no strength to fight the terrible creature.  
A water skin appeared, and a heavy liquid was forced down her throat. Gil fought with all her meager strength against the liquid fire. It burned in her body. Finally, she gave in to the fiery medicine, and passed out again.  
The next time Gil awoke, it was dark again. She could feel smooth rock beneath her instead of the bumpy grass by the creek. A faint glow came from somewhere beyond her, and Gil cautiously moved her head to see what it came from. To her surprise, It no longer hurt to move. She carefully tried out her arms and legs, then stood.  
The glow came from the opening of the cave. It was day out, but no one stirred. Gil quietly crept past the sleeping forms on the ground and inched closer to the cave's door.  
Suddenly, a dark shape rose up before her. Dark eyes glared at her, and the Orc spat out growling words and gestured wildly. Another form appeared in the dark beside the first, this one larger. Even the other Orc cowed at this new one's appearance.  
"Do you understand this language?" the towering Orc asked in the common speech.  
"Yes," Gil replied timidly. The words were hard to make out, the Orc's dark speech gave them a foreboding accent.  
"I am Baroc. This is Ozga. Ozga will teach you. You are my slave." Baroc spoke in a haunty tone, and then walked away. Ozga turned to her then.  
"You are not to use the high speech. I will teach you our speech. If you disobey, I will beat you! What is your name?"  
"Gil."  
Ozga frowned. "It is not an elvin name, is it?"  
"Yes. In the common speech, it means 'the glimmer of a star'. Gil choked on the last word, remembering that the star she was named for lay dead.  
Ozga landed her fist on the side of Gil's head. Gil looked up in surprise.  
"You were not listening!" Ozga reprimanded her. "Pay attention, or you will be a 'glimmer' of life!" Ozga repeated her instructions, and Gil soon found herself tied up in a corner of the cave. These creatures slept in the day, and only ventured out when the sun was gone. Gil tried to loosen the ropes chafing her hands and feet, but soon gave up. She would need to renew her strength if she was to survive the night with a cave full of Orcs.  
Night came, and Gil was kicked awake. The ropes were removed, and she was herded by Ozga to the mouth of the cave. Many of the Orcs where already outside, busy doing various tasks. Several took the time to hit her as she walked by.  
Ozga pointed her towards a pile of rocks, each about the size of a small melon. "Get more." she directed.  
Gil spent most of the night scavenging nearby for the rocks. Ozga wouldn't let her go far, but neither would she let her rest. Near morning, one of the Orcs tossed her a piece of meat that was half raw and half burnt, but Gil ate it gladly. Living with the Orcs was not going to be easy, Gil decided, but she was not ready to give up. 


End file.
